Love
by idlackage
Summary: Palletshipping, AU. Love isn't always requited, especially not with ones who aren't allowed to return it.
1. I wish

Warning: Not-so-kind Prof. Oak.

* * *

They were in a game of baseball.

Gary wasn't playing. He wasn't even in the audience—he was at the school's computer lab, hurriedly using his lunch break to type away at an essay he'd forgotten to finish. His fingers cramped on the keys and there seemed to be at least one character wrong of every five he'd typed. He sucked at this. He was the top student.

The backspace key jammed. Gary tugged and picked at it, and as soon as it wobbled free of whatever it was stuck at, the computer screen had frozen, and upon moving the mouse it turned white. All the text Gary typed was erased, just like that.

Just like that.

Out in the field, Ash held the bat with inexperienced hands, and as soon as the ball came his foot slipped forward and he almost lost his balance. The bat swung wildly, and the ball went flying. Ash was not a good runner, but the winning team was obvious and Ash had scored a home run. Just like that.

Hours later, the bell was about to ring, and it was almost the end of school. Ash was beaming in his seat, eager to go home and share his victory—no matter how accidental—to his mother and his friends. His fingers were drumming on his desk. The teacher smiled discreetly at his happiness, then turned her attention back to the board.

Gary sat back in his seat after being reprimanded for his failure in completing his literature assignment, and his eyes darted anxiously to the clock. The teacher, a strict man in his late forties, yelled at him and told him to pay attention.

_I'm so excited_, Ash thought joyfully. _I wonder how mom will react. I hope she bakes me a cake!_

Gary couldn't see the clock, but he was positive he could hear the seconds ticking by. He focused all his attention to the teacher, but all the words were nonsense to his ears. All he could think about was how he didn't finish the assignment, how the keys were against him and the computer and the damn keys, those fucking keys—

_I'm so scared_, Gary thought restlessly. _I don't know how grandpa will react. I hope he won't slap me so hard this time._

Ash snuck a drink out of his water bottle, and it was cool and refreshing.

Gary gulped, and his own saliva burned.

-

"Whoa! This is like, a _farm!_"

Ash flung his arms apart and looked like he was about to spin on the grassy field. He laughed, happily, and fell on his back with a soft _plop_.

Gary watched with a small smile on his face, counting the number of steps Ash had made on the field. The depth of the sunken soil, the angle in which the grass had been nudged. He looked at the messy, muddy imprints on the otherwise shiny blades of grass and wondered how much it'd cost—how much it'd cost to his face.

"Are those _cows?!_"

Ash ran to the other side of the field, footsteps heavy and stained. Twenty-two. Twenty-six, twenty-eight. Gary could barely keep count; Ash was ruining the field so fast. How long would it take to repair it all?

"They aren't cows," Gary sneered, his eyes to the ground as he made his way around the muddied tracks. Thirty-two, he recounted. Thirty-two mistakes.

Ash walked around the group of animals, eyes wandering as his shoes made _squish_ sounds on the ground. Gary figured he might as well carry Ash out, if only he'd be so kindly inclined to leave.

"What are they, then?"

Gary's head snapped up. The newest number spun in circles around his mind. "What?"

"The cows."

Gary's brows furrowed. _What are they, what are they?_ He tried to remember, but the question only spun around his head in circles. Ash took a few steps sideways and new numbers added themselves to the count. _What are they—_

Ash had thankfully interrupted him before he could attempt to answer. "You know?" he started. "I don't get why you're so bitter all the time." Gray looked up at that, frown growing deeper. _What the hell is he—_"I mean, sure, your parents are overseas, but so is my dad. You still have your grandpa like I still have my mom." Ash made a face. "And, you know, my mom always nags."

Gary couldn't tell where he was going with this, only that Ash had no idea what he was saying or how much it hurt. His parents _were_ overseas—in their graves. Pain clenched at his heart at the mere thought of them. He had been happy, once…

"They say that people who take care of animals are really nice people," Ash continued. "That's why you should be happier. You get all the good stuff, like the lab and this farm, all from your nice grandpa."

But hurting was alright. It was a hard blow, but Gary was used to getting hit.

Instead of retaliating with an insult, he merely shifted slightly. "So?"

Ash shrugged. "So don't be so grouchy. You suck like that, you know."

Gary growled. "So?" He shifted more, and his shoes grinded and pushed against the blades of grass. "What's it to you, huh? Why the hell do you care?"

Ash stared at him with a defiant expression, slightly annoyed. "I'm your friend, you know. It really sucks to play with someone so grumpy."

"Then don't play with me," Gary snarled. His glare was pronounced and piercing.

Ash's reaction was strange. First his feet slid back and he made to draw his fists upward, his mouth curved downwards into a nasty scowl; there, he seemed to pause, and slowly unravelled from his previously tense position into something much more awkward and forgiving. "...Sorry, Gary," he mumbled. His eyes stared at the ground, feet playing with a slab of soil.

Gary could tell he was seething inside.

"Maybe I'll come back tomorrow," Ash continued, as if his presence was a positive matter. "Or some other time."

Gary couldn't help himself. "You better leave, then," he sneered, and Ash's last look towards him held a mixture of disappointment and nervousness before his shoes cleaned themselves on the rest of the grass and he disappeared.

It was for the best, Gary thought to himself. Ash had to leave one day. Everything good had to end, one day.

When grandpa found mud on his shoes and connected it to the ruined yard, Gary thought that maybe it had been too soon. He wanted someone in his life, someone kind, and maybe he'd gotten rid of what he wanted too soon.

"Their _meat,_ Gary!" Grandpa threw his hands in the air. "How can you be so _stupid?_ Special shoes—why didn't you wear those cleats I got you—don't you remember? Those special shoes, they're clean. Don't you know how much germs are on those _things_ on your feet?"

Grandpa was nice, though. He took care of animals.

"You can't show them _crap_ in their system when they get butchered. Cut open, Gary, do you know what that means?" Grandpa's hands dropped and he looked like the worn old man he was supposed to be—then they rose and Gary felt fingers around his neck. Grandpa used it as leverage and shook Gary's body harshly. "_Do you know what that means?!_"

"They won't be healthy," Gary said through almost-clattering teeth, "they—they're going to be rejected…"

Grandpa's grip did not tighten. For a moment, Gary thought it would, but then it loosened and the hands fell.

"Study harder," grandpa said, "your science exam is in a week. You barely know your material."

Gary didn't nod, didn't disagree. He merely stood there and waited for a sign on what he should say. Grandpa only looked at him expectantly.

"I will," he promised. His throat clenched and his skin prickled, and he thought only now that maybe this time his voice would really die, and grandpa will finally stop trying to choke him.

Grandpa just looked at him again, and walked away.

-

Gary had aced the exam.

His palms were sweating and his eyes continued to dart anxiously to the clock. Three minutes left. Three minutes left before he walked home and grandpa asked him how he did, and Gary would have to find a way to leave out the _barely_ part of his good grade.

There was a high and low to every perfect. Gary's mark was ninety-four, and no matter how many time he'd looked it over or counted the checkmarks he was still six marks away from a hundred. Six fucking marks.

Three minutes of yelling and three knocks to the head, and Gary thought that he's been getting away with things so much easier these days. Maybe he has been doing better in his studies, finally doing better. He may have been stupid before, but now he was ten. He was smart and grandpa had noticed.

Bruised and dizzy, Gary shakily smiled.

* * *

I did indeed have another fic titled the same thing--I've changed that one now because I have completely forgotten where I was going with it.

This is the prologue. Actual plot starts next chapter, but amazingly this part is completely necessary.


	2. the sun

This chapter shall be dedicated to everyone who reviewed, and specifically to **slivershell** because her review really motivated me to update. Everyone else gets lots of love too, though!

* * *

Three years ago, a few long days after his parents had died, Gary had woken up and found himself lying curled in the heavy embrace of his grandfather's arms. He'd listened to the old man's slow heart beat and wondered how grandpa had treated his mom or dad, and whether or not they'd be happier if the rhythm stopped. Whether or not he'd share their feelings one day. Silently, Gary made to scoot back onto his futon.

"Gary?"

Gary froze, suddenly finding his breathing too loud.

Grandpa shifted before him. "Gary? Come back here." he lifted his sheets. "It's a cold night."

Gray had gone back willingly. He'd had a smile on his face and dreamt sweat dreams, forgetting about his parents for this one special moment because he'd finally found someone who would be willing to love him as much as they did. Even though he had always lived so far away, even though they had barely met each other before this—grandpa was very fond of him. Even though he only saw him once every year and would probably not ever see him again when he grew up, grandpa was warm and inviting every time under his parents' silent glares.

Because humans can only love one thing; the thing they can never have.

It was a week after they'd settled into a routine that grandpa had started scolding him about not eating all his food, about not doing his homework. Gary was used to that and had taken it all childishly, as always. Grandpa had always smiled.

Because lonely men were attracted to the loneliness of others.

It was three months later, in winter, when Gary was out too long in the cold playing with his new found friends. He had promised to be back at three, and at three-thirty grandpa stalked out with a red, angry face and yelled at him in front of all of his friends. He'd dragged him home and told him how worried he was, how so, so worried. Then he left the freezing child dripping at the doorway while he walked irately to the shower. Gary supposed that it made sense. He'd deserved that.

But the human could never gain what he wanted so the lonely man stayed lonely, and attraction turned into addiction. On Christmas Eve, grandpa gave him and curfew and gave a few knocks and twists to his ankles to make sure he couldn't break his promise. Gary had friends outside, worrying about his absence or just playing without him. Eventually he would be scared not to come home every day, and the lonely man would've successfully created loneliness in someone else.

That was okay, though, because grandpa loved him. He'd said so three years ago. Me and grandpa forever.

"Grandpa and _I_," grandpa corrected with a scowl, "is that why you failed your literacy test?"

Gary had been horribly sick and his fingers had been blue tipped red from the cold, layered with splotches of purple. He'd scored only third-highest out of the class, a ninety-six. Literacy was easy, grandpa had said. It's hard _not_ to get perfect. Where have you _been_, Gary, do you need a reminder?

"You will be a _scientist_," grandpa snarled, "you will be able to write a simple sentence. One _fucking_ sentence! What else can't you do?" he breathed harshly, glaring down furiously at his ten year old son who would have his birthday next week in brand new crutches. "You're going to be eleven, for fuck's sake! When will you learn? I don't want an _idiot_ following my footsteps!"

If Gary was counting, this would've been the seventh day in a row he'd had blood sliding down his face. _Then don't make me follow your footsteps,_ he wanted to say, _I don't want to be a scientist!_ But there was no such thing as opposition against your elders and he didn't want to break grandpa's under-ten-minutes streak, so he bit his lips and waited for the next put down.

It had started as a stupid little thing, really. Ash had come over with the prospect of doing a project. He had jammed the printer while Gary went to the washroom, who had given the machine its final pull upon return and had ultimately ruined their report. At that time, grandpa had come in and noticed the _piece of shit_ in his hands, to quote. For once in his life, Ash had stayed quiet.

Then grandpa had begun going off about anything he could say that would injure him, which spiraled off into several unrelated topics that truly hurt. Under accusing eyes of both grandfather and grandson, both for different reasons, Ash had run. Gone again, just like two months ago, the month before that, the month before that. How long would Ash take to forgive him this time? How long would he stay forgiven? How many more times until he would no longer be forgiven?

"Are you _listening?_"

By everyone?

-

"Hey Gary!" Ash's smile was beaming. "Why didn't you call yesterday? Had a party without me?"

Because Ash was a child who scratched his knees during a race and genuinely would forget about it two minutes later if no one were to remind him. If he was so unaware of his own pain, how could Gary expect him to remember the suffering of others?

"...No."

Gary was a child too, but he'd had training learning how to remember things and reminders every week.

"Hey, wanna come finish the project at my place? I've got leftover cake," Ash gushed, but his eyes were the slightest bit adverted, and Gary thought that maybe even Ash could be insightful sometimes.

Gary shrugged. "Sure." Ash grinned, then surprisingly did not speak further and walked off to class with his teeth still stretching his face. That was the first time Gary thought that maybe smiling looked wrong on him.

Their conversation had ended so quickly that day.

-

He'd asked his grandpa, upon getting home. Ash had waited outside the door like a strangely good little child and had insisted that he does not bother Professor Oak by merely stepping into the house.

Grandpa hadn't known about Ash, but he hadn't yelled or hit. He merely regarded him with a strange, cold looking glare, then sent him off. He never seemed to mind where Ash was concerned; Gary wondered if he was quite taken by him.

Gary's legs had stopped shaking in time to meet up with Ash. He watched as the house grew smaller and smaller every time he looked back, but it never quite disappeared off the horizon.

Mrs. Ketchum greeted them with a smile and a few kind, unnecessary words. Suddenly, all Gary wanted to do was to stay in that room and exchange pleasantries all day. A mother, a kind mother, for twenty-four hours.

"Hey, mom!"

But Ash had taken her, too.

-

"Wait, don't you have the poster?"

They were upstairs and Gary was typing away on the computer, making sure there were no mistakes in case the keyboard jammed and crashed the system once again. Ash held a marker in his hands, looking determined to scribble a few ugly lines on a piece of paper.

"No, _you_ have it."

Ash's face scrunched up. "But I thought you had it," he insisted, nevertheless starting to look around his room.

For a moment, all Gary thought of what the project. What words to put where, how to phrase his sentences perfectly. It was one of the few times he worried about school because he was worried about _school_, one of the few times he could forget about how hard he'd gotten his ankle twisted and if he'd deserved to get it twisted worse. He was comfortable around Ash; an ordinary boy doing ordinary things, always dressed for summer and constantly glowing like the sun.

"I can't find it," Ash declared. He scratched his head and put one hand on his waist.

"Well I don't have it," Gary snapped unhelpfully, "yesterday you've—oh, shit."

Ash's eyes widened. "_Oohh_, you said—"

"Shut up, I'm going to get it." Gary stood up, whipping his head back to check on the status of his work before walking forward. "_Don't_ touch the computer. I'll be back really fast."

"But it's my computer—"

"Because you obviously know how to work it, right?" Gary paused at the doorway and gave one final glare to his friend, about to speak when the full implication of going back home suddenly hit him, and remembering how Ash had left last times he decided not to push it. Ash wasn't a saint; there was no such thing as forgiveness, only forgetting and moving on—Gary didn't need to remind him again of why he'd run away so many times.

-

Gary stood at the doorway of his house and wondered if he should resort to climbing into a window.

He'd forgotten his keys. He'd forgotten his keys even though they were right beside the door in his room, that stupid child—what would grandpa think? They were just keys, just keys, common things to lose or forget about. But grandpa was inside, probably doing something important. Gary would have to make him walk all the way to the door from wherever he was and Gary would have to tell him why he's back so early to interrupt his work, and the beating after may not be about the keys at all.

Always the fucking keys. Always Ash, always grandpa. The same things over and over again and he still haven't learned any of his lessons.

Gary looked at the ledges between the bricks and the height of the second floor, and decided that risking a fall and broken bones or a cracked head was pretty much the same as going to manually get his bones broken and his head cracked—three times over.

-

Gary found the poster, rolled it up, patted the keys in his pocket just to assure himself they were there, then turned to see Grandpa walking up to him. His room's white lights reflected off the poster, and Gary suddenly felt that he should be hiding it.

"When did you come in?" grandpa demanded, and his eyes trailed over to the poster in Gary's hand.

Gary wasn't sure what he should make of that. "Just a moment ago," he answered truthfully, but was shaking inside. It's just a stupid poster, just grandpa's usual tone. There's no need to be scared…so _scared_—

"And when will you be back?"

"Five-thirty," Gary replied automatically. When he thought back on it he'd realize that it was nearly five and Ash's house was fifteen minutes away, but he didn't think it would be wise to answer with anything else. Grandpa's glare did not change, but he turned and left, still angry at whatever little thing that had displeased him.

Gary stood uselessly and waited a few seconds until after grandpa's footsteps could no longer be heard, thinking of Ash waiting for him back at his house and grandpa and his outdoors curfew and what the fuck he's supposed to do. He decided that he needed to at least get out the door as a start, and hearing grandpa's irate mutter of 'fucking fag', he somehow felt the need to walk out faster. He knew what that meant, and it wasn't directed to him, so why was he so scared again? _Gary, do you need another lesson…?_

Gary was at Ash's house in five minutes.

-

"…but then I realized that I will always love my father, no matter what…"

Gary peeked into the warm, yellow-lighted home, vaguely wondering what kind of sentimental crap Ash was watching instead of doing their project and more consciously wondering where his mom was.

"A child always loves his parents…"

"I got the poster," Gary started lamely, shifting it more clearly into view when Ash startled. The other boy blinked at his entrance as if forgetting why he was there, then blinked again in a more understanding manner.

"Oh! Um, okay." Ash scooted over slightly, not getting the poster offered to him. "Wanna sit?"

_No,_ Gary thought, then walked over anyway but stayed standing. "…Do you want the—"

"Wait wait wait," Ash shushed, eyes glued to the screen. Gary immediately felt a pang of anger. He stepped closer to Ash's leaning form, but the other only swatted at him. "I said _wait._"

Gary's fist clenched for a second around the fragile paper between his fingers, and the hold was neither long nor hard enough to be satisfying. He wanted to tear it and rip and rip and _rip_ Ash's fucking hair _out_.

He sat down and looked at the TV.

On its screen was a teenage girl babbling about loving her father regardless of whatever he'd done to her, babbling nonsense. Her skin was bruised in places and scarred in others—Gary rubbed an unnatural lump in his elbow and watched as the girl's listeners nodded in agreement to her obvious bullshit. He desperately hoped this was a movie and not a documentary.

"Yes, he did." she paused, leaned forward. "But you know? I forgave him." Her voice was proud.

_Stupid girl, _Gary thought. He looked at Ash. "Where's your mom?"

Annoyance flickered over Ash's face briefly, not realizing that Gary's expression had long been mirroring his. "She was nagging me again," he said, "all I wanted was a few snacks, but she doesn't let me and just starts going off about how they're bad for my health! I mean, geez, I was just asking…"

Gary felt oddly like he should defend her. Before he could stop himself, before he could realize what his next words may do to their delicate friendship regardless of whom was right, he frowned over at Ash and spoke. "She's not stupid, you know."

Ash shot him a dirty look, denial of having ever mentioned or implied that written all over his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your mom just wants the best for you! What did you do, send her off or something?" Gary's glare became more pronounced, and the anger from Ash's ignorance earlier came back to him and added to the fuel. "_Geez_ to your fucking self!"

Ash's eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. "You stop swearing!"

"Gonna send me off too, hm?"

"Shut _up,_ Gary!" Ash's glare turned teary. "I hate you! I hate you!"

Gary wanted to throw it all back in his face—and, deluded with how Ash seemed to hate him a lot already, he thought that he might as well. "Well I hate you too!"

Then Ash looked heartbroken.

And Gary thought that he deserved it.

He glanced at the clock, found that it was time to go, looked at the tearful eyes of the boy that deserved to hurt and wondered why he was hurting instead.

"Work on your stupid poster," Gary snarled, a strange feeling bubbling up from his chest into his throat. He vaguely remembered that his hard work was still upstairs in Ash's computer, that maybe he should do something about it but knew that it was as good as destroyed, anyway. He'd hand-write those four pages over again at home, and Ash would be guilty for having ruined his hard work tomorrow because he was sure that's what Ash would do. "I've leaving."

He knew it wasn't necessary, but just so Ash would know he added an unsure farewell before he stepped outside. "…Bye." He put both feet out the door and willed his hand to let go of the doorway ledge. When had the summer gotten so cold?

When had the summer gotten so cold?

* * *

If anyone doesn't get why the ending sentence is repeated, ask and I shall tell. If too many people don't get it, I'll just write why here, but for now I want to screw with your heads.

Actual actual start of real story coming next chapter. ...I think.


End file.
